Imperial Special Projects: The Seven
by Osetto
Summary: Part of an experiment in military thought, the Seven are an elite squad of Imperial soldiers who operate by nontraditional means. Encased in millions of credits worth of equipment, these faceless troopers possess no name beyond a simple letter. Loyally following the orders of their Director, the team embarks on a series of nonstandard missions, unaware of their true purpose.
1. 1-P 'The Interrogation'

_Foreword: This is an original story featuring original characters set in the universe of Bioware's 'Star Wars: The Old Republic'. Events depicted take place more than eight years prior to events in-game. Rated 'T' for depictions of violence and violent themes. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated._

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**Episode I: Boarding Party**

**Prologue: The Interrogation**

Two men, alone in a cramped chamber.

One seated. One standing.

One motionless. One pacing.

Nothing but a simple table between them.

Pristine white walls surrounded the pair, blackened by shadows and dim lights. A single door in and out. A single camera mounted in the ceiling's corner.

A holding cell. Within which resided its prisoner and its keeper.

"The Seven," spoke the seated man, utterly calm. "Always seven. We are faceless. Nameless. If one was to fall, another would take their place as if nothing had happened, and the public would be none the wiser. But that rarely happens. We are given the best training. The best tech.

And then there's the fact that we don't fight the normal fights. We never just march right into any of the major conflicts. We didn't even exist before the Treaty of Coruscant, despite what the reports may say.

The written exploits of our little elite group have been highly exaggerated. Sometimes we're even tied to different events in different sectors of the galaxy that all happened on the same day. This just contributes to the myth.

Our exploits are seeded across Republic and Imperial channels alike, to make our presence known, and at the same time do exactly the opposite. Know us. Know of us. Always wondering. Always doubting. Always believing. Instill fear and intrigue about some unknowable, unkillable foe. You might know how these things work.

It's impossible to know the truth, because we are the ones who define it. It shifts and changes to suit our needs. But no matter how much we bend reality, there is one universal axiom. Because behind all the myths, once you strip away the veneer of hype perpetrated by Imperial Intelligence, there still exists a team capable of astounding accomplishments.

Despite the rumors, we don't specialize in black ops. After all, secret missions with no witnesses don't exactly suit our needs. Gray operations on the other hand… missions designed to leave just enough of a message. Just the right information, given out in measured quantities that, in the end, serve to further our agenda. The Empire's agenda.

We are a strike force. Pure and simple. Clear cut objectives. Hardly any room for in-the-field decisions. Our success comes from planning. That and the fact that we are only given assignments with less than a ten percent estimated chance of failure.

We are good, but we aren't gods of the battlefield. We aren't allowed to take unnecessary risks. After all, we are sporting millions of credits worth of arms and armament. Each.

Now you see where the myth begins to fall apart. One could argue that any trooper with our resources could accomplish what we have. We are given easy missions on purpose, all to bolster our record. In the end, all people care about are the headlines.

So what if the bunker had an insufficient security force? So what if we boarded and detonated an already derelict capital ship? Our purpose was to produce results. Just not directly. The power of misinformation.

The Seven are first and foremost an experiment in mental and military thought. Charts and graphs, my friend. Statistics. Intelligence wanted to see if they could create a force capable of altering the outcomes of battles with words alone.

'Your request for reinforcements has been acknowledged. The Seven are on their way'. 'Alert: The Seven have joined up with the ground forces. Proceed with your original objectives'.

It's amazing the kind of impact a few simple words can have if you send them out over the right channels. Opposing forces might show the slightest hesitation. A group of defenders might hold out for just that much longer.

That is our true purpose. To alter the course of a battle without actively participating in it. To be heroes. To be villains. The kind of tactical manipulation that only an Imperial could think worthy of funding. But in the end, it works. Either that or we've just been attached to one long string of happy coincidences.

But honestly, judging by my recent luck, I'd feel pretty confident in ruling that out. I mean, here I am, prisoner aboard a Republic cruiser. Hands cuffed behind my back. Stripped of my gear. Figuratively naked. Who knows? Maybe we're not the unstoppable force we're made out to be."

The other man leaned forward, gripping the edge of the metallic table. He narrowed his gaze, studying the man opposite him who continued to keep his head dipped.

"Interesting story… Aurek, was it?" spoke the standing man. "As far as interrogations go, I don't think I've had the privilege such a forthcoming subject before. Imperials are usually so hard to break, especially those with ties to Intelligence. This information regarding 'The Seven' doesn't exactly sound beneficial to the Empire should it slip out. So, what's the story?"

The seated man released a soft chuckle. "That's always the question isn't it? Quite frankly, we don't decide the story until it's ready to be told. And that doesn't come until the mission's over."

The interrogator straightened his stance, raising a hand to gently scratch his chin. "I would assume the mission ended the moment we caught you."

"Oh, no. That's when the mission just got started."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, yeah. This capture? Planned. I wasn't lying when I said our success stemmed from proper planning. The rest of my speech, well, that's a bit fuzzy. You see, I know you've got your people on the other end of your comm just eating up this information. Digesting it. Wondering how a group like this could possibly be so effective. Or how it could have survived this long. Wondering just how it is that they might not have even heard of The Seven. The right amount of bleeding between reality and fiction. That is our goal. Our purpose. The power of misinformation. That bit about how we were just an experiment to see how the course of a battle could be changed by words alone? You think the experiment stopped? Just because you happened to get me alone on your ship? No. Instead, you won't know how to properly react when my squad storms this cruiser and rescues me."

The standing man remained unfazed. "Your squad? You mean a group of seven soldiers is going to attempt a rescue? Oh wait, since you're here that means there will only be six. Unless they've already replaced you, that is."

"No, no. They wouldn't do that while I'm still alive. After this mission, though, who knows? We might need a new Cresh though. He doesn't have the best luck. Me though? I'm sure I'll be fine for now."

"So, you're all but sure you're somehow going to survive, while you sit here… restrained… in the detention center of a major Republic cruiser?"

"Well, we were sure to pick a ship that was understaffed. And you didn't exactly follow strict, or even proper, security protocol when detaining me. No armed guards, no detention fields. You honestly could just not believe the catch you made when I agreed to come along quietly. You were so overconfident that the information I had for you would be so intrinsically valuable, so beneficial to your career, that you wanted to be the one solely responsible for _'extracting'_ my _'confession'_. And yet we find ourselves in a situation unlike anything you've ever encountered or could even imagine."

There was a pause as the seated man finally lifted his gaze.

"Plus, managing to undo your restraining cuffs is much easier when your hands are hidden behind your back."


	2. 1-01 'The Squad'

**Chapter One: The Squad**

Red lights flooded the passenger bay of the Imperial shuttle, set to cease as soon as the ship exited hyperspace. Five soldiers were situated on the two benches that ran along the interior walls. The area acted as the corridor between the cockpit and the aft cargo area. Not the most spacious of crafts, the gap between the two seats was wide enough only for the appropriately marked entry ramp built into the floor, with little room for maneuvering should it drop.

The five bodies that occupied the passenger bay were a motley assortment of sizes and demeanors, but uniform in encapsulating attire. The bodyglove and hardened plates that covered them resembled the armor of most Imperial soldiers, though enhanced to a discernable degree.

Trademark black with red highlights were carried over from the norm. The thick armored plates that made up most of the suit were composed of some of the strongest materials a bloated research budget could acquire. Where the plates could not provide protection, the state of the art armorweave bodysuits were more than capable of defending against any stray blaster bolts that made it past the integrated shield systems.

From the neck down, they possessed some the purest mechanical brawn found amongst the Imperial Army. From the neck up, something even more spectacular.

Perhaps the most integral piece of the armored puzzle, the helmet provided advanced tactical data via heads up display. While possessing the basic flat topped conical shape possessed by most modern Imperial ground forces, its visor went uncovered by protective armoring, giving its wearer a smooth, featureless black surface for a face.

The sword, the shield, and the warrior. Body, mind, soul. All symbiotically connected.

The five men in powered armor exuded equal parts subtlety and domineering intimidation. Barely noticeable was each soldier's mark of distinction. An Aurebesh character stamped upon their right pauldron in a bold, contrasting white.

Besh. Marksman. Second in command, recently upgraded to first. The soldier, thinner and taller compared with the rest to the squad, sat calm and collected on the portside bench nearest the cockpit. Arms crossed, head dipped ever so slightly, he kept his body compacted as well as he could.

Cresh. Combat medic. Newest member of the team. Average build, his only discernable feature was his posture. Hunched over, forearms against thighs, his head was directed toward the floor, where his armored foot nervously tapped the deck.

Esk. Demolitions expert. Sturdier and stockier than his predecessors, he leaned aloof against the aft barrier of the passenger bay. Legs drifting apart, clenched fist supporting the chin of his helm, his free hand softly tapped against the bench. The melodic beat was at odds with the medic's foot taps, as well as the utter silence consuming the opposite bench.

Forn. Close-quarters combatant. He possessed an average build much like Cresh, but an almost converse mood about him. Back straight, head high, arms not crossed so much as neatly folded in front of him, a cold aura flowed readily from the unyielding soldier.

Grek. Heavy weapons expert. The largest of the team, the other soldiers could only hope to meet his chest plate at eye level when standing. Whilst sitting, his hunched stance carried with it equally serene and primal notions. Unlikely a Human by merit of his size, but his exact nature outside his armor was unknown.

The doors to the cockpit opened to reveal the last team member aboard the shuttle making his way into the passenger area.

Dorn. Technical expert. Pilot. His attention focused on the datapad built into his left bracer, he managed to take a seat between Forn and Grek without peeling his gaze away from the glowing screen. The smallest in stature compared to his companions, his gear still presented a hardy figure.

"Is our route set?" Besh calmly asked. The marksman's words reached his comrades through their shared comm, spilling out of their helms' internal speakers.

"Yes," Dorn hastily replied. "Should be dropping into realspace soon."

Besh supplied a nod before slowly raising himself from his seat. His back toward the cockpit, the marksman passed his featureless gaze over his equally faceless compatriots.

"Alright, our mission is to extract Aurek from his imprisonment aboard the Freedom's Runner," he began. "By size and dimension, our target is your basic light cruiser, about 350 meters bow to stern. In truth, it looks like a bloated _Thranta_-class Corvette." The soldier's tone possessed little of the vigor expected from a man about to lead a squad into the dangerous fray of boarding a ship. Instead, they were the words of a man assigned a dutiful chore.

"Aren't those things designed to take out smaller ships?" Esk asked in a gruff yet jocular voice.

"The corvette, yes. This cruiser, no," Besh replied. "These particular ships are mostly relegated to solo missions, where they specialize as mobile platforms for various non-combat roles. Communication systems. Medical bays. Mobile barracks. The luxury of a base without the trouble of having to build structures on a planet you don't need a permanent presence on. That being said, it _is_ equipped with enough firepower to drive off any local pirates."

"And we're better than your average pirate, right? What with this… state of the art… shuttle," Esk said with a heavy sarcasm. "Of course, this one's worse than the stock ones the army uses."

"Weapons and armor. That's where the budget went," Dorn muttered, voice possessing a somewhat higher pitch than his fellows. "Still, the ship interfaces pretty well."

"And it's served our needs just fine thus far," Besh added. "Besides, the vessel specializes in fast paced, non-atmospheric transfers."

Esk released a gritty chuckle. "Still, I'd prefer something a bit better than _Expendable_-class if we're going against a ship that can shoot back."

"Well, we should be able to adequately defend ourselves against the target's countermeasures," Dorn explained, maintaining his verbal haste. "We're too small a target for the main batteries. The deflector shields should be able to stand up against the point-defense systems. And if anything should seep through, this shuttle has a more than adequate hull rating to get us to the hangar bay. I've programmed a boarding sequence into the shuttle's coordination systems, and I can make minute adjustments to the navigation from my datapad as need be."

"With our approach under automation, we can focus our attention on disembarking and engaging," Besh stated. "Once we're past the magnetic barrier, we'll be performing a hot landing. If we're going to maintain advantage, we can't wait for the shuttle to fully touch down. Disembark order hasn't changed since debriefing. Grek will be first off and draw any hostile fire while I follow. Next will be Forn and Cresh, followed by Esk and Dorn. After the landing area has been secured, we will attempt to reestablish contact with Aurek. Any questions?"

The squad's silence proved an adequate answer. The red constant that had permeated the room changed into a periodic flicker.

"That's our signal," Besh said as he made his way astern. "We'll want to be completely geared up before red lights completely shut off."

All but Grek made their way into the aft cargo hold, currently operating as an impromptu armory. The giant instead turned his attention to the black plasteel footlocker discretely tucked beneath his seat.

The others found themselves in a seemingly empty chamber, no larger than the one that had preceded it. Along the walls and floor however, were a plethora of removable panels that promised a bounty of weapons and equipment. All but the designated marksman pulled one of the more compact blaster rifles that lined the racks.

"Ugh. Carbines," Esk lamented as he examined the weapon in his hands, eventually maneuvering its strap over his shoulder.

"Once we reach the inner workings of the ship," Besh spoke up, "we'll be in hallways less than four shoulder lengths wide. Plenty of twists and turns. Carbines will be the most effective. The hangar will be open, but that shouldn't be too much of a problem so long as you make your shots count."

As he finished his words, Besh passed over the carbines to retrieve his sniper rifle from a wall panel.

"If you're not confident in your marksmanship abilities… you can always let your helmet do the work for you," Forn joked, albeit in a rather stoic fashion. His voice matched Esk's low pitch, but countered by carrying itself in a much smoother manner. Aside from a small sidearm hooked to his thigh, the hunter also slipped a pair of vibroknives behind his back.

"Yeah, yeah," Esk grumbled as he lined his belt with demolitions materials.

The remaining soldiers armed themselves in silence. Cresh accepted his carbine and accompanied them with a pair of pistols attached to his sides. Dorn took his weapon and sidearm along with an assortment of security and computer spikes. Besh took a carbine and tossed it to Grek from the open doorway. The pair set to be the first ones out took their position near the entrance ramp. The others steadied themselves in the cargo bay.

"Alright, everyone sync up with your blasters," Besh ordered across the group comm. The soldiers complied, and soon, weapons data filled their heads-up-displays. Ammo capacity found its spot in the corner of the troopers' sights, accompanying the readouts of vital signs and sensory data. "Also, quick check on the secure channel."

"Cresh," the medic checked in, a soft youthfulness to his voice. "Acknowledged."

"Dorn. Checking in."

"Esk here."

"Forn… ready and able."

"…" This served as Grek's check in. The subtle clicks of the comm channel opening and closing. It took some time, but the squad became capable of proper communication with the mute trooper.

Besh offered a firm nod. "Good, everything is in order. Be ready."

Silence flooded the shuttle as everyone directed their attention to the flashing lights above them, waiting for the refrain that would signal the beginning of the battle to come.


	3. 1-02 'The Entry'

**Chapter Two: The Entry**

The red flashing ceased as the shuttle finally dropped into realspace. Firing up its sublight engines, the vessel began making its way to the cruiser's hangar bay. Only a few moments of silence persisted before various alarms signaled oncoming fire.

The soldiers kept their cool as Dorn intently eyed his datapad. The shuttle's maneuvers and various rumblings weren't enough to visibly shake the heavy troopers. The rate of fire registering against the deflector shields lulled as the transport neared the portside entrance of Republic cruiser's hangar.

A quick jolt rocked the shuttle as it passed through the open chamber's magnetic barrier, now affected by the cruiser's artificial gravity. The invading shadow immediately contrasted with the pristine whiteness of the Republic hangar as the transport urged its black chassis forward. Suddenly, the shuttle began to turn around to face the barrier it had just passed through as its momentum carried it deeper into the chamber.

That hangar ran all the way through the ship, baring another magnetic barrier at the opposite end. But The Seven had no intention of passing through the other side.

As the vessel flew backward, its ramp began to descend, mouth toward the shuttle' cockpit. Before the ramp had even fully lowered, Besh and Grek made their move. The first off the shuttle was actually Grek's footlocker. A sizable thud followed as the heavy container struck the solid flooring beneath the hovering craft, officially sounding the start of the on-board conflict.

Grek followed, jumping from the craft with his carbine held solely in his right hand, landing a few meters below with nary a bend in his knees. Scores of blaster bolts were released toward the juggernaut from the surrounding chamber. Devoid of any starfighters, the hangar's sole occupants were small cargo crates and a modicum of armed soldiers.

Besh disembarked with a much greater sense of grace, rolling away as the shuttle came to a stop behind him. As he scanned the hangar from a kneeling position, Besh saw that Grek was drawing the attention of every hand on deck. The few security personnel that had graced the hangar floor had already fallen from blaster fire from the giant's carbine.

The main opposition rested on two raised platforms, to the left and right of the shuttle, each leading to the ship's bow and stern respectively. Running along the entirety of the walls in which they rested against, the flat, grated platforms jutted several meters away from their respective walls. Supported at the edge by thin pillars composing the underlying framework, the only way of reaching the upper levels were three broad sets of stairs staggered throughout the hangar.

Besh took cover behind a sizable grouping of crates whilst Grek stood in the open. The indicator on the marksman's heads-up-display showed optimal levels on his comrade's personal shields, despite whatever hits he may have sustained during his original drop.

Grek began a charge up the closest set of stairs leading to the aft-ward platform as Besh directed his attention to the opposite. Sniper rifle now in hand, a monocular red ring lit up on the exterior of the marksman's visor, beneath which lay his right eye.

The scoped sight showed up as a picture in picture on the soldier's HUD. One by one the security along the forward platform found powerful red bolts expertly delivered to their chests, immediately removing their threat from the battle.

The shuttle completed its landing toward the far end of the hangar and the next two soldiers hurried out. Cresh and Forn stepped off the ramp, carbines raised, scanning the hangar. The young medic was surprised to see Grek had already made it up the rear platform, physically knocking soldier after soldier to the ground before permanently disposing of them. As he turned away from the scene, Cresh found Forn had disappeared amongst the crates scattered about.

A warning indicator flashed across his HUD as his shield absorbed a blaster bolt straight ahead of the ramp.

Cresh quickly took cover behind the nearest pile of crates. Some of the Republic soldiers managed to reach the hangar floor and were in the process of approaching the boarding party's shuttle. The medic signaled a quick word of caution over the comm.

Seemingly ignoring his squad mate's warning, Esk made his way down the ramp in a rather moseying fashion. Still moving forward, the demolitionist fired a couple of shots from his carbine toward the facing enemies. One enemy went down before the group scattered behind the cover of the crates.

The panicked security hadn't noticed that they had been flanked as one of Forn's vibroknives gently slid into the back of one of the soldiers. Before the lifeless body even hit the ground, the hunter had closed the distance between him and his next foe.

Twin blades sunk between the combatant's shoulders and neck from above. The soldier dropped without Forn retrieving his implanted weapons. Instead he continued his assault with his carbine as his previous victim slumped to the ground. Accompanied by support from Besh's rifle, the forward opposition had been completely dealt with. As Forn made his way back towards the shuttle, he saw that Grek has finished cleaning up the aft platform.

Dorn was last to exit the shuttle, hurriedly glancing back and forth between the opposing walls of the hanger.

Besh raised himself from his cover, while Cresh found it hard to move from his position backed by the sturdy durasteel crate. Esk held his carbine aloof in one hand, raised and resting against his shoulder. Turning to his downed companion, he offered his free hand to help the medic up. Forn returned to the group, trying to wipe the blood from his retrieved blades. Grek made his way back while rotating his arms, apparently suffering from little more than stiff joints.

A short distance away from his squad, the giant diverted his path to the area behind the shuttle where his footlocker had landed. Dragging the container by one end, Grek set it down once more after eventually being reunited with the six soldiers.

"Nice work," Besh calmly spoke to his squad. "Dorn, lock down the hanger. Make sure no one enters or exits this room without our consent. Grek, Esk, Cresh, see if you can't clear this area and move some crates into a defensive perimeter surrounding the shuttle. Forn, patrol the aft platform until we're sure the room is secure. I'll accompany Dorn while he slices into the ship's systems and see if we can't reestablish contact with Aurek. Let's get moving."

The squad shared their simultaneous nods and went about their ordered business. Forn managed to silently slip away from the group despite the expected sounds of heavy boots clashing against the solid floor beneath them. Dorn and Besh made their way onto the front platform, heading towards a wall console near the hangar's bow-ward exit. Grek began the relatively easy task of rearranging the uniformly cubic crates throughout the hangar. Cresh and Esk took some time to clear the landing area of the fallen bodies that lay nearest the shuttle. Their powered armor allowed them to speedily drag the lightly armored bodies by their arms, lining them up under the nearby raised platform.

The two Imperials made small talk over the local channel, utilizing the helmets' external speakers meant for communicating with those within earshot.

"You did good out there, kid," Esk said with a warm grit, never taking his attention away from the soldier he was dragging as he shuffled backwards. Cresh gave off an inaudible chortle toward the perceived epithet, focusing on it instead of the compliment.

"Good, huh? Is that what you call getting shot at and cowering behind a crate?" Cresh replied.

"It wasn't your fault," Esk casually stated. "This is your first field mission. The suit's warning systems can overload your senses at first. Make you lock up. You'll get used to it like the rest of us." Cresh remained silent. "By the way, thanks for the heads up back there when I was exiting the shuttle."

The other soldier's silence persisted, but Esk could sense his comrade's spirits being lifted.


	4. 1-03 'The Hangar'

**Chapter Three: The Hangar**

After lining up four of the fallen soldiers under the raised platform, Esk took a knee beside them. The Human male he examined had two close scorch marks etched into his chest. Grek's carbine has no trouble passing through the soldier's chest plate. The armor stopped at the shoulders and arms, where little more than a few layers of cloth offered protection. The gloves and boots were woven cloth with additional plasteel inserts. The head went unprotected by either cap or helm.

"Something wrong?" Cresh asked, lacking his previous melancholy.

"Nothing wrong. Just odd," replied Esk. "Intel said that ship would be understaffed. But even so, I expected standard equipment. I know the Republic likes to cut costs, but skimping on armor…"

The medic knelt beside his comrade, taking a closer look at the fallen defenders. "Maybe we caught them off guard. Before they could prepare?"

"No. Their arrangements meant that they were ready for a fight," Esk said as he stood up. "Just one of a different kind."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean they were protecting the hangar from someone else." Esk put a finger to his temple and opened team communications. "Hey Besh, any update on Aurek?"

The demolitionist looked up to see Besh and Dorn working on the wall console almost directly above him through the thatched metal framework that constituted the raised platform. The slicer had connected his datapad directly to the under workings of the console. The marksman stood by his side, leaning against the solid wall.

"Not yet," Besh answered after a pause. "Been trying to sync with his helm's comm signal."

"How about getting the hangar secure?" Esk asked.

"Yes," Dorn took over. "That was pretty easy. Seems the hangar was already under lockdown. Didn't take much to route control to my datapad."

Beneath the platform, the demolitionist scratched the chin of his helm. "Hmm, makes sense."

"What are you thinking, Esk?" Forn asked in his stoic tone.

"I think that until a few moments ago, the ship's security forces were entirely focused on Aurek. Our welcoming party wasn't ours at all."

"Last line of defense… against an escaped prisoner," Forn offered. "One whose only means of escape… would be the hangar."

"That's what I was thinking," said Esk. "You notice their equipment Forn?"

The hunter paused his patrol of the aft platform to kneel down next to one of the dispatched foes.

"Light armor," Forn stated. "Mostly pistols… the occasional rifle. Now that you say it… poor fortification of the room. I think so far… we've been dealing with the ship's reserves. Combat ready… but with limited access to the ship's armory. Primary defenders… they're busy with Aurek."

"Yes, now it's just a matter of figuring out whether he's hiding or actively having to defend himself," said Besh. "Dorn, get us each a copy of the ship's schematics."

A progress bar appeared near the bottom of squad's HUDs. Direct copies of the ship's layout popped up before being automatically configured into a usable transparent image.

"Well, it looks like we're pretty close to the cruiser's stern," Dorn declared. "Only thing behind us are the engines and a few engineering stations."

"That likely puts Aurek ahead of us. It's not much, but it does narrow down his location," Besh admitted, cautiously optimistic.

"He's got a tracker in his suit, right?" Esk asked. "Activate it and we'll make our way to him."

"Not the best idea," Dorn replied. "It's kind of a blind transmitter. Anyone manning a security console will see the blip show up. Last thing we want to give Aurek is more undue attention. Or worse, put a squad of troopers between him and his armor if he hasn't reached it yet. Don't want to broadcast our presence, or his."

"Says the person with his fist jammed far up the ship's security hole," Esk snarked.

"Give me some credit, will you?" Dorn quickly shot back. "I don't need lessons in subtlety from the demolition man."

Esk released a low chuckle. "So what do you have in mind then?"

"Doesn't look like I can access the cameras from here without leaving a trail," Dorn admitted. "But I can check various sets of data from other sources. Room occupation. Locked door status. Aurek was probably smart enough to avoid tripping any unauthorized entry alarms. I can compile a list of the most likely places to check."

"And then?" asked Cresh.

There was a moment of silence as the squad pondered their options.

"If video is out of the question… what about audio?" Besh suggested. The idea wasn't met with much enthusiasm from the squad, but none outright rejected it.

"Technically, tapping into the speaker system poses the same troubles as tapping into the cameras," Dorn explained. "But even if I do end up leaving a trail, it's a much lower priority system for monitoring."

"So, what? We just send a shout out to individual rooms until Aurek shouts back?" Esk asked, not sharing his companion's confidence.

"If you must put it that way… yes," Dorn plainly stated,

"But wait, it's not enough to tap into the ship's intercom," Cresh interjected. "Even if the room he's held up in has speakers, he might not have a way to actually send a reply."

"Actually," Besh began, "on Republic cruisers like this, you can usually find a communications panel in any room that requires security or maintenance."

"You're kidding right?" Esk balked. "On the home cruiser, I have to walk around for five minutes before I can find a damned integrated comm." The demolitionist released a low sigh. "Is it any wonder the Empire needs folk like us?"

"He says whilst currently on a mission to rescue his captured squad leader," Cresh lightheartedly spoke up. Esk offered a chuckle before delivering a hearty slap to the medic's armored shoulder.

"Alright, so we have a plan," Besh took over. "Anyone have any idea which room to start with?"

Silence followed as each of the soldiers studied the schematics visible on their visor. Dorn noted the detention room Aurek most likely escaped from with a ping. Lines then extended from it, leading to the prime candidates for rooms housing their squad leader.

After a brief examination, another ping appeared, but one generated by a different squad member. The blip directed everyone's attention to an small, secondary armory not far from the detention area.

The squad directed their attention back towards the shuttle to see the crates that had once been scattered throughout the entirety of the hanger were now situated in neatly arranged barriers circling the ship. After a brief moment of pondering the squad seemed in full agreement with the mute trooper that had provided the suggestion.

Dorn's check of the armory's data log provided the evidence needed to warrant an attempt at communication. Single occupant. Entrance recently locked. No activity prior to the alarm for escape sounded.

The troopers looked in silence to the technician, who in turn looked to Besh for confirmation. With a quick nod, the rescue was officially underway.


	5. 1-04 'The Search'

**Chapter Four: The Search**

Dorn's fingers glided across the screen embedded in his left bracer. Wired into the nearby wall panel, the others waited in silence as the slicer patched into the cruiser's intercom system.

"Just… about… got it," said Dorn, glow of the datapad reflecting off his facemask.

"So, how exactly do we talk to Aurek?" Cresh asked from the hangar floor. "I mean, if he is there, what do we say? What do we say if he _isn't_?"

"Don't worry," Besh calmly stated. "I have a plan."

"Well, _that's_ good to hear," Esk muttered, his whispers carried to his squad mates through the team comm. "I mean, I'd have preferred to hear that a few hours, if not days ago… but still good, nonetheless…"

There was a moment of quiet as the others seemingly ignored the demolitionist's musings.

"Alright," Dorn spoke up. "Patching in to the armory's intercom. Silence… would be preferable…"

The six troopers remained quiet as a new icon appeared in the corner of their heads-up-displays. The slicer was connected, and by extension, so were his allies. Dorn finally tore his right hand away from the screen in his bracer to offer a halting gesture toward the soldier beside him. Never averting his gaze from the datapad, the technician waited, and waited, and waited, until finally giving Besh a thumbs up.

The marksman took a deep breath before slowly releasing it, careful not to trigger the live microphone in his helm.

"Trooper, status report," Besh finally called out. The marksman's stoic, calculated delivery departed little from his usual tone, but he did seem to be masking his Imperial accent to the best of his ability.

There was silence as the squad eagerly listened in. Finally, a response.

"Oh, uh… here sir," a nervous male shot back, its source not from any of the six troopers in the hangar. The voice was familiar to the soldiers' ears, but seemed tainted by a thick, rural accent.

"I asked for a status report. Why are you locked within the armory?" Besh continued.

"Oh. Well, uh, you know that prisoner? He took me hostage, and forced me to take him to where his armor was. Afterwards he locked me in here while he made his escape toward the hangar!"

"The hangar, you say?" Besh replied, maintaining his facade. "We just received word of a boarding party completely wiping out the security posted there…"

"You… you did?" the man replied, almost dropping his accent.

"Yes," Besh continued. "Now don't worry soldier. We're sending a squad to rescue you."

"Uh… negative," the voice quickly shot back. "It would probably to take too long to override the door controls. Go on without me."

"We'll send a security expert."

"No, wait, I think he rigged some explosives to the door. Any interference, and, you know… boom."

"It's okay, we have a demolitions expert on the way."

The two continued back and forth. It was all but confirmed that they had found their leader, but the amusement of the trooper's blatant overacting was great enough that none of the squad members bothered to chime in.

In time, Besh dropped the charade.

"What kind of accent is that, anyway, Aurek?" he bluntly asked, returning to his usual regal, yet vacant tone. The silence that followed had been one of the heaviest since beginning the mission.

"Corellian, I think. Just a lowly farmer with dreams of seeing the galaxy, spreading the good will of the Republic," Aurek replied, a light-hearted warmth to his voice.

"Corellia has farms?" asked Besh.

The squad could hear a chuckle from Aurek. "If Tatooine can have farms, any place can."

"Well, we're glad you're okay Aurek," Besh declared. "We've taken the hangar and will begin exfiltration as soon as we can. I assume that you are there with your armor?"

"Yeah, but they slapped so many damned restraining bolts on it," Aurek muttered, annoyance tinging his previously indomitable warmth. "Managed to get the suit on and functioning, but the helmet's still out of commission."

The marksman rubbed the brow of his own helm. "Would you like us to wait, or will you have it fixed by the time we arrive?"

"Don't worry, I'll have it on and working by the time you all get here," Aurek stated. "Project protocol perfectly upheld."

"You did make sure to deal with anyone who saw your face, didn't you?" Besh asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Aurek dismissed. "They managed to get me all the way to the detention center before asking me to remove my armor. Minimal witnesses. Not a problem anymore."

"Security footage?" Besh continued. There was a beat as the marksman received no immediate answer.

"I guess they would have cameras… in the holding areas. Makes an inordinate amount of sense now that you mention it," Aurek audibly whispered. "The footage is always so grainy and blue-ish, maybe they'll just suppose I'm a Chiss?"

"That won't fly with the Director. Dorn'll stay in the hangar wiping the evidence of your existence," Besh declared. The technician's head sank, his legs already sore from his posted position. "The rest of us will come rescue you."

"You're too kind," Aurek replied. "I'll be waiting right here."

With that, the communications ceased. The pair near the control panel shared a brief look, faceless visages offering little in regards to their emotional state. Instead, they offered each other a mutual nod.

"Alright team, let's get our leader back," Besh called out, maintaining his stoicism.

Before stepping our from under the forward platform, Cresh and Esk dipped their head towards the Republic soldiers they had lined up. Forn popped out from behind a cove of stacked crates near the aft boundary of the room. Grek had attached his footlocker to the spine of his armor, serving as a backpack that increased his already sizable volume. Soon, all four had made their way forward and rejoined Besh and Dorn near the door out of the hangar

The technician input a quick command into his bracer, and soon, each of the soldiers' mini-maps shed the previous markings and pings from before. Instead, only a single objective point presented itself.

"Four of us will make our way toward the armory," Besh explained. "One will stay behind to support Dorn.

"And who will get the honor of guarding my person as I remain tethered to this console with an ever increasing soreness in my legs?" the technician asked, only half-joking.

Esk raised a hand. "Don't worry, I'll keep him safe."

"You sure?" Besh asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Esk added, dismissively waving his raised hand. "Forn hates guard duty if he isn't all by his lonesome, and Grek looks ready for a fight. Not too sure he'll find another one in here." Pausing, he jutted a thumb toward the medic. "And I wouldn't want to separate the little one from the main group this early in his career."

"I'm taller than you," Cresh muttered, only to receive a loud chuckle in his ear, and another hearty slap from the demolitionist delivered to his shoulder.

"Besides, most of my stuff is on that shuttle," Esk stated. "Wouldn't want anything bad to happen to it."

"Most of your stuff better stay on that shuttle… wouldn't want anything bad to happen to the hangar," Forn coldly offered, breaking his silence.

"When have I ever used more than the recommended amount of explosives for any given situation?" Esk asked. The turning and dipping of heads from his comrades provided a sufficient enough answer. "Fine. Discretion it is."

The demolitionist's shoulders sank, one of which was soon met with the planting of a hand.

"Listen," Forn began, giving his comrade a friendly shake. "There are maintenance hatches… tucked away under the forward and rear platforms. Should you wish… rigging some traps would prove advisable."

With that, Esk's shoulders and spirit simultaneously rose.

The six troopers were each ready to proceed, and made as much perfectly clear with a round of shared nods.


	6. 1-05 'The Surprise'

**Chapter Five: The Surprise**

With a brief wave of his hand, Besh motioned for Dorn to unlock the double-doors that led toward the front of the ship. With a few taps, the team's own lockdown had been lifted and the gateway began to part. Slowly, the two heavy slabs of metal slid into their recesses, revealing more and more of the compact corridor beyond.

Their attention focused on one another, none of the Imperials noticed the a squad of eight Republic heavy troopers standing on the other side of the barrier, guns raised and trained on their intended targets. Helmed and clad in distinctive white armor, the riflemen were not of the same class as the weak hangar defenders.

"Hold it!" sounded the forefront Republic soldier. The command resonated forward, freezing not only the Imperials but seemingly the door along with it.

"We probably should have checked for that," Besh muttered. Without using his helmet's external speakers, the words remained between the Imperials. Outside the confines of the troopers' armor, there was still only silence. Silence that was broken as the opposing soldier ordered the boarding party to raise their hands.

Four and a half of the Imperials complied. Esk was the half, deciding that raising only his left hand would suffice. The demolitionist looked as if he were about to hesitantly swear an oath instead of admitting surrender. Dorn was the man whose hands remained his own. Still hugging the wall console, the Republic troopers' perspectives left them with no evidence of his existence.

"What? Were these guys just sitting behind the door? Or do we just have horrible timing?" Esk calmly said, not content to let his words stay between him and his allies.

As the electronically tinged voice graced his ears, the Republic leader jerked his rifle towards the churlish Imperial, and submitted a repeated threat. One that was not accepted by its intended recipient.

"You think this is the first time I've had a blaster pointed toward my face? For talking, no less? I've received worse from people who like me a lot more than you, pal," Esk declared.

The rest of the squad remained perfectly still as tensions flared between the two. Everyone's attention was so focused on the two troopers that Dorn almost did not detect the subtle notification that appeared on his heads-up-display. One final taunt from Esk drove the Republic squad leader forward, stepping past the half-open barrier, intent on striking the mouthy Imperial with the stock of his rifle.

Moving with speed uncharacteristic of someone his size, Grek intercepted the blow by positioning himself between the two soldiers. The result was a barely audible ting as the weapon bounced of giant's armored chest, prompting the Republic trooper to physically and emotionally recoil. The white-plated soldier had not even a chance to recover before a heavy black boot planted itself right below his sternum. As Grek sent the trooper hurling backwards into his own squad mates, the previous notification on Dorn's HUD flared.

Taking note, the slicer quickly began shutting the doors. The Republic troopers, now knocked completely to the ground by their own leader, only caught a short glimpse of the giant turning away. The demolitionist standing behind him, his left hand still raised, swiftly scooped a silvery orb from his belt with his right, and tossed it through the closing door. The lobbed explosive, and the subtle wave goodbye from Esk's still elevated hand, were the last things the Republic squad saw before the doorway completely shut.

The muffled thump on the other end of the door signaled the device's detonation to the now-relaxed Imperials. Though as the others lowered the arms, Esk still had his single hand raised in the air.

"High five, anyone?" Esk asked with subtle turns toward each of his squad mates. Grek, still in front of him, turned around and indulged the trooper in celebration.

"At least you managed to toss it _past_ the door this time," Dorn spoke up, less than enthused. "Last time it bounced off the frame and landed back at our feet."

"Last time, your timing was off," Esk replied, voice full of fire and grit. "Plus, used my right hand this time. Because I learn from my mistakes, mister keeps-forgetting-to check-what's-behind-door-number-one."

"Wouldn't want you to have naught to talk about during our extended time together in the hangar," Dorn mumbled. "Nothing speeds up a slicer like constant critical analysis."

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Besh calmly interrupted. "Let's just see what kind of cleanup is needed."

"Shall I take a peek through the console, or just open the doors again?" Dorn snarked. Esk responded with a soft flail of the hand beckoning the trooper to do as he wished. Besh confirmed the query with a single word, and not a moment later the barrier began to part.

The troopers were greeted with a scene of rather restrained devastation. All eight of the Republic soldiers lay scattered on the floor, slightly pushed away from what appeared to be the zone of impact. The effects of the explosive were no more evident than on that of the fallen squad leader. His once pristinely white chest plate had been blackened and utterly cracked. The concussive and thermal blast had left its mark on its targets and the immediate surroundings.

With the doors wide open, the four Imperials that made up the future rescue squad stepped through the threshold to examine the collapsed troopers. Kicking away weapons, they examined each for any signs of life.

"And the Director says explosives are expensive," Esk spoke up, still in the hangar. "Divide the cost by eight soldiers and you're down to a measly 125 credits."

"For a man who hates discretion… you have an odd taste for economics," Forn replied, kneeling beside the crumpled group.

Esk released a low chuckle. "What can I say? I'm a complicated individual with simple tastes."

As Besh, Cresh and Forn checked the bodies and weapons littering the floor, Grek stood adamant ahead of them, becoming a makeshift barrier for any additional soldier that might happen by.

"Everything seems clear," Cresh stated. The other two examiners promptly agreed.

"Let's head out," said Besh as he lifted straightened his stance. "Divide the comm into separate party channels and leave the collective open for emergencies." After a pause, the marksman looked back into the hangar. "Stay safe you two."

And with that, the rescue party offered parting salutes and Dorn sealed the doors behind them. The four troopers readied their primary weapons from their hanging slings and made their way toward the forward armory, and their leader, with a quick and steady pace.

Back in the hangar, Esk immediately stepped away from the sealed door, and began making his way toward the parked shuttle.

"Where might you be heading?" Dorn asked, still plugged into the wall panel.

"Shuttle," Esk answered without missing a beat.

"I can see that. What for?"

"Gonna need more explosives."


	7. 1-06 'The Rescue'

**Chapter Six: The Rescue**

Besh and his three compatriots made their way down the pristine corridor, intent on reestablishing contact with Aurek. The marksman led the way, with Cresh and Forn at his flanks and Grek protecting the rear. The hallway proved just wide enough to accommodate the squad, and just tall enough to accommodate the giant with a footlocker secured to his back.

Making their way through the bowels of the cruiser, the sights and sounds of a ship on high alert assaulted the invaders' senses. White walls turned orange with each flicker beacons lining the ceiling. Sirens echoed through the corridors before being filtered through the soldiers' helmets. In the end, only a faint, period hum managed to graced the invaders' covered ears as they marched deeper and deeper into the vessel.

In the corner of each soldier's HUD, the map constantly updated with new information gathered by the slicer back in the hangar. Doors and hatches flashed red as they locked down, cutting off various avenues of approach. Often, the way ahead would be completely sealed, only for Dorn to override the lockdown with expert precision.

Never did the rescue team come to a halt. The clattering of boots against the hard flooring was a methodic constant as the automatic doors before the soldiers' willingly let them pass. As the doors closed behind them, they re-locked, sealed and forgotten as Dorn focused on the next opening.

The four troopers traced a path along the maps present in their heads-up-displays, a relatively straight path along the vessel's spine. Relatively, as a sharp down the line would put them in front of a turbolift that would take the rescuers toward the armory one level below.

Carbines and rifle in hand, the four troopers sprinted toward their destination. Eyes ever forward, the only deviation came for the occasional quick glance toward the small doors that lined the walls. Their status still showed as locked, but none were willing to risk an emergent threat.

But none came. No doors opened. No one appeared behind the invaders. All was calm but the incessant blaring of the ship on high alert. Instead, the squad was free to continue their hasty march unabated.

Finally sighting the intersection that led to the turbolift, Besh urged his comrades forward. Rounding the corner, the Imperials saw that the narrow corridor widened to accommodate a pair of cylindrical lifts that bridged the ship's vertical layers. They also saw a squad of Republic troopers protecting said lifts.

The four defenders released an opening volley of bolts from their rifles before ducking behind where the corridor widened for cover. The Imperials did the same, scrambling back to the intersection as the rounds soared just over their shoulders.

Taking cover on opposite sides of the path toward the lifts, the invaders pressed their backs against the walls as they watched more and more blaster bots continue to pass through the clearing, impacting out of sight further down the hallway. With a series of nods, the Imperials shifted, placing Forn and Cresh at the corners whilst the other two stood back. Besh and Grek watched as their comrades carefully directed their carbines around the corner, keeping their bodies unexposed. Then, a quick series of shots. What would have been blind-firing to most soldiers was actually precise maneuvering due to the carbines' sights being synced to their helmets.

The pair made short work of the armored opposition. Stepping out from cover, the four troopers saw an equivalent number of bodies lying upon the floor. While lacking their previous haste, the Imperials quickly approached the turbolifts before them, stepping over their fallen foes along the way. Unlike the various doors that had impeded their path prior, the lifts showed no signs of opening for the invaders.

With a calm sigh, Besh opened the team-wide comm. "Dorn, lifts are still on lockdown. Can you do anything?"

"Maybe," the slicer quickly shot back. "I'm going to need some time."

The technician's words were punctuated with the click of the comm channel closing, and followed by the distant sounds of more soldiers on approach. The Imperials were about to leap to cover, when the giant took a brisk step toward one of the sealed lifts.

With his augmented strength, Grek parted the lateral doors of the cylindrical fixture himself, exposing the dark maw of the empty tube that breached the numerous layers of the cruiser. As the giant stepped aside, Forn immediately leapt into the tube and descended the few meters that separated the two levels of the ship's interior.

Vibroknives drawn, the hunter kicked off of the shaft's back wall and stuck himself into the wall next to the doors below, a slight hum emitting from each activated blade. Withdrawing one from its place in the wall, he jabbed it instead where the lift's control panel rested on the other side. Cutting through the metal and circuitry, Forn quickly withdrew the blade once again before swinging through the now opened doorway.

"The way's clear," Forn relayed. "Jump down."

Besh was first down the tube. Grasping Grek's hand with his own, he was gently lowered down a sizable distance before Forn assisted him from the lower level. Grek offered his hand to Cresh, but the two were interrupted by the arrival of more Republic soldiers further down the hallway. After taking cover, Cresh signaled for his companion to go first. Grek nodded without opposition.

The sizable trooper flung himself backwards down the shaft, facing toward the doors as he descended. Falling quickly, he managed to catch himself on the bottom ledge of the level below and readily hoisted himself up. Back pressed against the wall, opposition drawing ever closer, Cresh took a few shots over his shoulder before dashing toward the chute.

A stray blaster bolt from behind managed to strike the medic's carbine. The blast rendered the weapon a piece of mangled scrap and sent the Imperial spiraling as he fell into the tube of the empty turbolift. Battered metal fell into the darkness below, clattering as it impacted against the shaft's walls along its descent. Cresh would have followed, had he not been yanked out of his fall by outstretched hand of Grek.

The giant had no trouble holding up the medic's armored heft, and placed him back on his feet as gently as he could. As Cresh caught his breath, the others could tell their comrade's distressed state. If not for the rising and falling of his shoulders was not telling enough, the heart rate indicator that appeared in the corner of their HUDs provided confirmation. Rather than immediately continue their pursuit, the squad stopped to gather themselves.

Grek offered a calm hand upon the medic's pauldron. The giant offered no words, but he didn't need them, instead providing a brief, silent nod. Cresh replied with one of his own, before retrieving one of the two pistols holstered at his waist.

Weapons raised, the squad was ready to continue. Eyeing the map in the corner of their HUDs, the path traced was no longer the straight line it had been before. Instead, it twisted and turned in accordance with the labyrinthine floor plan. But even within an unfamiliar, hostile setting, the troopers expertly moved along the route traced upon their visor.

The ever splitting pathways provided ample cover for the troopers' approach. Each straightaway lasting only a few meters, it was easy to avoid being sighted by any of the squads patrolling the area. It was only when nearing the small armory that two Republic soldiers caught site of the invaders as they stepped out of a dark room. Cresh managed to drop one with a precise shot from his pistol. The other was brought down by Besh's sniper rifle, shot from the hip.

A quick look into the room that spawned the now fallen soldiers revealed it to be a sort of monitoring chamber.

The darkly lit room spied on its brother further in through specialized recording equipment. The door separating two the was raised, and a videoscreen provided sight into the holding chamber beyond. Table and chairs had been knocked aside. An interrogator lay motionless on the ground, victim of blunt force trauma to the head.

Pausing, Besh looked to the floor to see a pair of discarded restraining cuffs.

Urging the squad forward, the marksman put the group back on the path toward Aurek. The final stretch, it wasn't long before the rescue team had reached their target. As they reached the sealed door of the armory, the troopers took defensive positions. Besh tried to connect with Aurek. Cresh guarded the return path, pistol raised and at the ready. Forn and Grek knelt side by side, training their eyes on whatever threats might approach from the unknown end of the hallway.

Besh banged the door twice with his fist before trying to connect with the seventh trooper's comm. After an uneasy pause, the sounds of click sounded out over the new channel.

* * *

**Chapter Six-Point-Five: The Interlude**

Back in the hangar, Esk emerged from the shuttle toting a small but sizable box from the shuttle's cargo bay. The crate was plastered with a series of warnings and labels in a bolded, vibrant font. Stepping off the vessel's ramp, the demolitionist set the box on the hangar floor with a loud thud.

"And all I'm sayin' is an X2 droid probably would have checked what was behind the door before opening it," Esk muttered over the two-man channel connecting him with Dorn.

"So you'd replace me with an Astromech?" the technician bluntly replied.

"We're not talkin' about any ol' Astromech," Esk offered with a chuckle. "A military X2… with some modifications. Cortosis weave armor plates, matching paint scheme, and maybe some shoulder slings so Grek could carry it like a backpack."

"Yeah, but then how would Grek carry his pride?" Dorn asked.

"Do you meet his literal pride or his footlocker?"

"Both."

The two soldier's antics were interrupted when word of Aurek's returned echoed across the shared comm.


	8. 1-07 'The Breakout'

**Chapter Seven: The Breakout**

"So, you guys miss me?" Aurek's pleasant voice reached across the channel. The words resonated in the ears of the six Imperial troopers. The team had their squad leader back, in a manner of speaking. The sturdy door of a Republic cruiser's armory still kept him from his comrades proper.

"We made do," Besh replied, a touch of warmth gracing his usually calm, collected voice. "We'd love to have you back, though."

"Well that's good to hear," said Aurek. "I got everything readied and suited up on my end. Have Dorn slice the controls or just get Esk blow the whole door off, I've spent too much time here as is."

"Actually, Dorn and Esk are both guarding the shuttle back in the hangar," the marksman admitted after a beat.

A lengthy silence followed.

"Don't worry, Aurek," Dorn interjected. "I'm patched into the system. I should be able to remotely lift the lockdown from here."

Another lengthy silence followed, though considerably less unpleasant that the one moments prior. As they waited on their technician to deliver on his promise, the four-man rescue team relaxed in their defensive positions. Knees no longer graced the floor. Barrels no longer pointed down each end of linear corridor. Instead, the soldiers were content to quietly, and patiently, lean against the nearby walls. But neither the quiet, nor the patience, could last forever.

"What's your status Dorn?" Besh asked.

"Having a bit of trouble on my end," the technician shot back, a budding franticness tinging his words. "Diagnostics are showing that the armory had an independent security system. And I can't seem to find it."

The marksman scratched the chin of his helm. "The armory's doors aren't on the grid?"

"No," Dorn quickly replied. "I mean, they aren't right now. They were before. Not before as in earlier, but… okay as in earlier, but not since I sliced in.

Besh released a cold sigh. "What are you trying to say?"

"The doors are locked. Not because of lockdown. An on-site mechanism was triggered," Dorn explained. "The master override should be giving me some measure of influence, but something removed the door's information completely from the system."

A third, lengthy silence.

"Aurek?" Besh muttered.

"That… may have something to do with me blasting the control panel inside here," Aurek admitted. The fourth silence. "It was the only way I knew to lock the door from the inside. I didn't want someone on the bridge overriding it."

"Then why did you even suggest Dorn slice the controls?" Besh asked, returning to his usual chilled tone.

"The panel might be scrap on this end, but I don't think it made it through the other side," said Aurek.

Taking a quick look at the protruding block next to the door, Besh could see that the control panel was indeed intact. A closer look, however, provided less enthusiastic news. "The panel out here says 'Unit Unresponsive. Call Maintenance'. Where did you even get a blaster?"

"Well, I _am_ in an armory," Aurek offered with a chuckle.

Once more, silence as the marksman palmed his facemask with his gloved hand. "Aurek, are you behind the door right now?"

"Yeah."

"Well, don't be."

Stepping aside, Aurek did not even have time to respond before door was knocked off its supports by the thunderous right foot of Grek. As the dented door fell and skidded past the visibly shaken soldier, the colossal trooper stepped aside to allow Besh passage into the compact armory.

Aurek stood frozen, unremarkable in appearance compared to his squad mates. Wearing the same set of armor, he possessed no indication of proper rank or authority, only his name written in white on his right pauldron. As the marksman examined the room, he noticed saw various racks of weaponry and light armors encroaching upon the already cramped floor space. Minimal arms and armament. Nothing worth a second glance. Instead, the second-in-command's attention was drawn toward the battered door that gently swayed upon its indentation toward the rear of the chamber.

"Republic engineering leaves much to be desired," Besh muttered, raising and resting the bulk of his sniper rifle upon his shoulder..

"You want to give me more of a warning before you have Grek go kicking in doors?" Aurek asked, words pouring out ever so slowly as he regained his composure.

Grek hesitantly peered in through the armory's doorless doorframe before offering a slight, soft wave of his hand toward the squad leader. That was as near as he came, opting to remain in the corridor alongside Cresh and Forn.

"A warning?" Besh repeated, maintaining a calm composure. "How about you warn us the next time you're about to go mouth off complaints to the Director about our missions being too easy?"

"That was said in confidence to her. And it wasn't a complaint," Aurek corrected. "It was simply a factual statement. No cognitive emotional value attached to it all. Plus, pretty sure it wasn't the Director who was responsible for this little excursion. One of the Patrons was probably listening in on us at just the right… or rather, wrong time."

"You know Project protocol. 'Always assume you are under surveillance. Whether it be by friend or foe'," the marksman recited, even more monotonous than usual. "Speaking of which…" Besh broke conversation and made his way out of the armory, bringing a finger to his helm's right brow. "Dorn, did you manage to scrap the ship's monitoring data?"

"Oh? Uh, yeah. I mean, yes sir," Dorn answered, as if caught by surprise. "All data regarding Aurek being unmasked has been disposed of."

"Something wrong Dorn?" Aurek asked as he exited the armory, pilfered blaster rifle in his hand.

There was a pause on Dorn's end. "'Wrong' is a strong word."

"Yes, that's why I used it," Aurek shot back. "Is there?"

"Well, you know how the door panel mysteriously disappeared from the system before. It would seem that the same thing happened to the, well, entire door," Dorn hesitantly admitted.

"Right, that was Grek applying a manual override," Aurek explained, looking back to the disheveled doorframe that made up the armory entrance. A few steps away, Grek offered another soft wave of his hand.

"That I gathered," said Dorn. "It's just that afterwards, activity on the ship's security grid seems to have… spiked… significantly. Monitoring equipment. Room diagnostics. Everything."

"So they're aware of our presence," Aurek muttered. "_More_ aware at least."

"It would seem so," Dorn replied, building up speed with each passing word. "They must have been biding their time, waiting for us to reveal where you had stowed away. Orders are pouring out from the bridge. Main systems are being recalibrated. Auxiliary systems are being flushed. Troop movement is up-"

"What does it all mean, Dorn?" Aurek asked, maintaining his calm.

"They've been holding back, sir," he said, almost at a whisper.

Again, silence.

"So they have," Aurek replied, unfazed. "Dorn, Esk, there's a chance they might not send everyone after us-"

"Don't worry, boss," Esk interjected alongside a light chuckle. "Everything's fine over here. Got some defenses set up and what have you. You all just make it back in one piece."

"And you keep the hangar in one piece until we get back," Aurek ordered, carrying Esk's jovial tone as his own.

"Will do."

Thereupon, the communications between the two groups ceased. Silence number seven.


	9. 1-08 'The Return'

**Chapter Eight: The Return**

The first primary objective had been completed. Now came the second. Exfiltration.

As Besh lastly exited the armory, the five troopers were completely reunited once more and readied themselves for the task at hand. They checked their weapons, eyeing the diagnostics that presented themselves in the corner of the soldiers' HUDs. The carbines and pistols the Imperials had brought with them readily told of their condition, but the seized rifle in the squad leader's hands was far less forthcoming. Unable to sync the Republic weapon with his helm, Aurek had only his cursory examinations to go off of.

Content, he turned to his men, all of whom stood at the ready. "Shall we return the way we came, or…?"

"That may prove difficult," Besh admitted. "Grek had to perform a 'manual override' on the lift. Plus, Forn took a stab at the thing's control panel to get the lower level doors to open. It's likely out of commission."

Aurek's head dipped as he gently scratched the chin of his helm. "Why is it when I shoot a control panel, it seals a door… but when Forn stabs one it, it opens?"

A gentle silence washed over the squad as they collectively dipped their heads, equally perplexed as their leader.

Finally, Aurek raised his faceless gaze and put a finger to his armored temple. "Dorn. It seems our return path is blocked. Can you give me a path to another set of lifts?"

A progress bar popped up in the lower corner of Aurek's visor. When filled, the cruiser's schematics uploaded to his heads-up-display much like they had for the other squad members.

After being reformatted into the usual mini-map configuration, a line began to snake through the ship's interior, eventually stopping before a set of lifts nearer the cruiser's bow. The chaotic path rounded countless corners down narrow corridors, and managed to cut through some of the vessel's large chambers.

"This is the best I can do," Dorn spoke up. "They're rapidly regaining control of their systems. Locking doors. Shutting off pathways. This is the clearest route I can get you. And it could be temporary at best…"

"Then we'll have to hurry," Aurek replied, not a sliver of trepidation in his breath. "Alright squad, let's move out. Form up, two by three."

The troopers began their quicken pace toward their objective, entering into formation as they went. Aurek and Besh, side by side, led the charge. Behind them, Cresh and Forn, shoulder to shoulder. Once again guarding the rear was Grek, his mass practically substituting two bodies in the formation.

The soldiers made their way toward the operational lifts uncontested. Rapidly, they rounded corners but still found none of the ship's defenders along their trek. Silence graced the team's comm, but with each new minute of zero confrontation, the Imperials' found themselves panning their gaze as they ran. Side to side they craned their necks, eagerly awaiting some new threat to pop out from behind a closed door. But none came.

Then, a shock almost powerful to bring the troopers to a grinding halt, the persistent alarms and sirens that had accompanied their invasion suddenly stopped. Having pushed the previous constant from their minds, only now did the squad truly comprehend the silence that surrounded them.

Lockdown lights no longer flashing, the Imperials finally witnessed what a stroll through the corridors might have been like on any other day. The signature white walls with various warmly colored adornments continued to haunt the Imperials' vision as they slowly advanced. The hasty march had turned into a careful trudge.

The eerie silence flooded the halls, broken only by the clamoring footsteps of the few invaders. A terrifying serenity. The defenders were gone. The alarm was rescinded. And no one knew why.

Finally on a straightaway, the squad approached a set of doors at least four meters wide. The only way forward was to the cut through the nearing chamber. Beyond its borders, the Imperials would find the prized lifts.

They increased their pace, refusing to submit to the unknown feeling brewing inside them. That feeling, however, reached a crescendo, as the doors ahead began to part, far before the automatic sensors would have picked up the approaching squad.

Time slowed to a crawl. As the doors opened, more and more Republic soldier were revealed with each passing moment.

Twenty meters beyond the rooms threshold, the Republic troopers had entrenched themselves at the opposite end of what looked to be a mess hall. Fortifications built up to the waist out of furniture, supplemented by mobile energy barriers of the same height, provided the waiting defenders with cover. The tables and chairs had been brushed to either side, providing a clear line of fire toward the Imperials.

Ten soldiers clad in pristine armor knelt behind the barrier, rifles drawn and aimed. Ten more stood behind them, the invaders in their sights. To the side, one soldier stood at an angle, resolute, holding an open hand above his head.

Before terror, came realization. The feeling from before was perfectly clear. The Imperials were led here, by their foes as much as their technician. Silently, the lead soldier's hand fell. Still in mid-sprint, the Imperials had little hope of altering their path.

Blaster fire rang out, leaving no area of approach unscathed. The Imperials had no choice but to press on. They each attempted to get to cover behind either side of the opened door, but the narrow hallway didn't widen for some distance.

Red-orange bolts of energy pelted the approaching troopers and surrounding area. Their black armor flashed when hit, shields absorbing the impact. Sparks flew and smoke emanated as blaster fire stuck the walls to either side of the squad.

Warning after warning flashed across each of the Imperials' visors, shields reaching critical levels. Aurek dashed for the safe haven left of the door, and Besh attempted the same with the right. Aurek successfully make it to cover. Besh did not.

Two repeated bolts to his left hip were enough to make it past the shield and land a hit on an area unprotected by heavy plates. The injury sent the marksman spiraling to the floor, carried forward by his forward momentum.

Cresh and Forn immediately slid to his side and pulled him to safety right of the entrance. Grek ducked to the left, taking his position by Aurek's side. The squad leader eagerly peered across the doorway at his injured comrade, who was being cared for by the team's medic.

"Damn it, no wonder this was the only clear path. Can you do anything Dorn?" Aurek sounded off into the comm, as he blindly fired his procured rifle around the corner. The haphazard shots only provoked more retaliation from the numerous Republic soldiers ahead.

"I wish I could, but I'm completely locked out of the system," Dorn hastily admitted.

Aurek let out a heavy groan as the comm fell silent. Forn left Besh in the care of Cresh as he stood to provide shots of his own from his side of the door. Even with the sights synced with his helmet, Forn had trouble fully controlling the carbine while maintaining cover. Shots were returned by the Imperials, but none seemed to successfully hit a target. The Republic formation broke as the previously standing soldiers sought cover of their own.

Besh sat leaning against the wall between Forn and Cresh. A large area between his upper right thigh and abdomen had been scorched. Where the bodysuit had been breached, blackened skin presented itself. The medic took a tubular vial from his belt and shook it before moving it closer to the sniper's wound.

As the trooper applied pressure to the ampule, it began to spray a thick mist from one of its ends. The milky liquid covered Besh's injury and slowly began to congeal. The infusion of kolto would start the process of healing the wound, the mix of stimulants and pain-killers would ensure his ability to made it back to the shuttle, and the sealant would cover the breach of skin and armor.

After a few passing moments, the marksman lifted his gauntleted hand, offered a woozy thumbs-up to his healer.

"Got Besh patched up," Cresh said between exasperated breaths. "The paralysis will take some time to wear off though."

As if punctuating his words, another volley of blaster fire soared from the mess hall.

"Don't think we have to worry about going anywhere anytime soon," Aurek replied, unrelenting in his haphazard shooting around the corner. At least, not until the weapon decided to stop firing itself. The squad leader brought his rifle close to his facemask before tossing it away with a muttered curse. "Who stocks an armory with weapons lacking adequate power cells?"

"How many times did you shoot that door panel?" Forn asked, a tinge of humor presenting itself in his otherwise unfazed demeanor as he continue to fire around the corner into the mess hall.

Before Aurek could respond, he received a gentle tap on the shoulder from Grek. The squad leader hadn't even fully turned to face his teammate before finding a carbine shoved into his arms. Aurek hesitantly gripped the weapon, only for Grek to point at the carbine, tap his helm, and then point to Aurek's visor.

The squad leader offered an appreciative nod as he re-synced the blaster to his own armor. Renewed, Aurek resumed firing into the mess hall, this time finding a target. Three defenders fell from the combined assault of Aurek and Forn, causing the Republic soldiers to rescind their all-out fire.

Utilizing their abundance of cover, the defenders kept the invaders at bay with more protective tactics. Monitoring the room through their scopes, the Imperials noticed a new soldier enter from the back door and join his compatriots behind cover.

"At this rate, we may never get through," Aurek muttered.

"They are stalling," said Forn. "They may attempt to sneak a group behind us."

Aurek paused to examine the entirety of the situation. Besh sat against the wall, silently recovering. Cresh crouched beside him, attention divided between triage and battle. Forn stood by the mess hall entrance, watching and waiting. Turning toward Grek, he was greeted with the sight of the giant subtly nodding and awaiting orders.

The squad leader became entrenched with thought, diverting his attention to the straightforward corridor that had led them to the dining area. Scorch marks marred the surfaces of the walls where blaster fire had missed the soldiers. In their wake, a thick layer of smoke permeated the area, generated by the collective bursts of energy impacting against the solid walls. At the sight, the Imperial perked up.

"I have a plan," Aurek calmly stated. The rest of the squad ceased whatever they were doing, giving the squad leader their complete, undivided attention.

"If we're going to push through his room, we're going to need some cover," Aurek began. "Grek, that means you're going to have to lay down some suppressing fire."

The large trooper nodded, took a step away from the wall, and placed the footlocker from his back onto the ground with a large thud.

"You're sending Grek in alone?" Cresh asked.

"At first," Aurek admitted as he turned toward the kneeling giant. "Grek, I need you to configure your shields to reflect rather than absorb. They'll last little longer and generate us some cover. Take out as many as you can and kick up enough smoke to fill the room. Afterwards, Cresh, Forn, and I will enter while you back out and tend to Besh."

"I'll cover the rear," Besh spoke up, having regained his voice. The sluggish marksman had his rifle sandwiched between his right arm and leg as he sat against the wall.

Each Imperial offered a confident nod.

"Alright team. Adjust your visors."


	10. 1-09 'The Battle'

**Chapter Nine: The Battle**

After undoing the latches of the footlocker before him, Grek was able to retrieve his prize from the molded casing within: a customized, two-handed, heavy repeating blaster cannon. The bulky cylinder of shaped, black metal was carefully lifted out of its case by its two handles. Right hand at the rear, left hand just above the weapon's midpoint, the cannon maneuvered with an apparent heft, even in the armored giant's grip. The monstrous blaster resembled a turbine with a tapered barrel, only the faintest glow nestled deep within its dark maw.

Grek circumvented his felled footlocker with heavy repeater in tow, standing just out of sight from those within the mess hall. Aurek slid along the wall away from the door, waving for Forn to take his former position.

With a nod, the Imperial fired a quick bolt into the dining area before sprinting to the other side of the gap. Republic soldiers stood from their cover, taking steady aim at the rushing trooper, only for their aim to be interrupted as a new target entered the fray.

Time slowed as the Imperial juggernaut walked into the mess hall baring his heavy blaster. The armored giant moved with calm and steady steps, unshaken by the entrenched defenders opposite him. The Republic troopers, meanwhile, were stricken with pause at the sight of the walking tank.

Grek managed to walk in and pull the trigger before the defenders even fired their first shot. The silence was broken by a sharp click. A soft hum emanated from the repeater as its internal mechanisms warmed up. Just then, an order to fire bellowed from the Republic commander. The troopers in the mess hall complied. All of them.

His left foot forward, Grek began sweeping the room with blaster fire, black turbine spewing red death. Sharp pings of energy shot out of the repeater at the rate of ten bolts per second. Caught off guard, Republic soldiers began falling one by one. But even as five combatants fell, their compatriots directed ample amounts of blaster fire toward the hulking aggressor.

The soldiers were surprised yet again when they found their own projectiles reflecting off of the invading Imperial. Bolts struck the surrounding area, and even some of their own troops, forcing the Republic soldiers into cover to escape the now combined barrage of blaster fire directed toward them. The defenders resorted to the same blind-firing techniques the Imperials had used against them, exposing the bare minimum to the open, but the single bulky target proved an easy mark.

Grek's shield reserves and weapon energy levels were slowly depleting, but luckily, a thick layer of smoke had begun occupying the space near the Imperials, and even spread to reach behind the Republic soldiers' cover. As the white walls turned black with the impact of both purposeful and reflected bolts, the air began to turn more and more opaque. Spending his weapon's last breath, Grek opted to shoot the ground preceding him in a wide arc, tossing more debris and smoke into the air.

Looking up from their cover, the defenders could no longer see their target, and further blaster fire directed at the spot in which he stood seemed to pass right through into the hallway behind him.

Turning to each other, their visual range had been reduced to a mere meter in front of them, their sights inhibited by a thickening white cloud. Adjusting their helms, the Republic troopers began scanning for energy signatures. Green outlines marked each friendly soldier, but no enemies presented themselves.

Suddenly, a Republic soldier was dropped by a single red blaster bolt implanting itself into the soldier's helm. His neighbor yelped a warning but was cut off mid-sentence as he was shot in the chest. The remaining Republic troopers began firing toward the sources of blaster fire, but found no evidence of hitting their intended target.

The Imperials' electronic systems should have been showing up on the defenders' visors, but no red marks presented themselves. The defenders began to panic as two sources of red blaster bolts rapidly appeared to their left. Focusing on them, their right flank was fired upon by two sources of their own. The two sides fired at each other through the haze, though only the Imperials possessed the knowledge of whether or not their blows actually landed.

Two sources of blaster fire struck against the defender's left and middle ranks. A single source now handled the right flank. Watching his allies get cut down, one by one by phantom foes, he turned toward the chamber's exit only to find the door had been firmly shut.

Turning back towards the scene of unseen carnage, the commander could have sworn he heard a soft whisper. In truth, it was the slight hum of an activated vibroblade sweeping itself across his neck. Crumbling, the commander fell to the presence of a pair of stark black boots that stood before him.

Silence fell on upon the smoky mess hall. Behind the varied assemblage of stacked furniture and the soft glow of the impromptu energy barriers, over twenty soldiers lay felled.

Aurek signaled the all clear and beckoned Grek and Besh to enter the area.

Even through the electronic red-shift of their visors, the smoke still proved an impermeable barrier to the senses, but heavy artificial outlines marked each trooper's position on their HUDs. Having placed his weapon back in its case, and the case upon his back, the giant supported the injured marksman's as they walked side by side.

"Squad, check in," Aurek calmly ordered across the white haze.

"Status is normal… Aurek," said Forn, standing near the room's rear exit.

"I'm fine over here," Cresh admitted as he hopped over the waist high barrier. Two quick clicks from Grek's comm signaled satisfactory conditions.

"Yeah, yeah," Besh woozily muttered.

With everyone checked in, the squad made its way toward the mess hall exit. As they moved through a gap in the fallen defenders' cover, Grek accidentally walked Besh into some of the furniture, provoking a low groan from the marksman. The giant offered an soft wave of his free hand towards the injured trooper, but its reception was render uncertain amidst the fog and dulled senses of the recovering Imperial.

Regrouping near the sealed exit of the mess hall, the troopers shared a series of quick nods.

"Dorn. It's Aurek," the squad leader called out over the comm. "Are you still locked out of the system? Can you at least confirm that the lift ahead is still functioning?"

"Still locked out," Dorn replied, bordering on a sigh, "but monitoring is still up. From what I can see, the lift is still operating. If it stops working, however, don't count on me being able to remedy the situation."

Aurek took and released a deep breath before slightly dipping his head. "Why couldn't there have just been a simple set of stairs…"

"Oh. Right. Stairs… Didn't even think of stairs," said Dorn, as if struck by epiphany. A long, heavy pause dominated the squad's comm channel. "I'm kidding."

With that, communications between the two groups ceased.

"He's certainly been spending too much time with Esk," Aurek muttered. "Alright squad, let's move out."

Waving his team forward, and with a brush of the neighboring control panel, the single door before them opened, revealing the smoke-less hallway leading to the lift.

First to step out of the room was Aurek, meaning he was also the recipient of having a pair of rifles directed toward his face.

Two Republic troopers, fully suited in armor, stood to the left of the door, in the hallway running along exterior of the mess hall's back wall. Aurek stood alone, stilled, his allies not interfering. With his arms firmly by his side, the leading Imperial kept a soft grip around the stock of his carbine. The minor tremors in the defenders' hands shook their weapons ever so slightly.

The closest white-clad trooper ordered the invader, albeit in a rather irresolute manner, to drop his weapon. Aurek complied. A hint of surprise could be gathered from the faux-authoritative officer's movements. There was a hesitation as the defender pondered his next step. The invaders had just passed through a room occupied by over twenty aptly armed and suited Republic soldiers. And the black sentinel before him bared not a single scratch upon his armored hide.

There was a pause. A silence. The defenders offered no more words, no more actions. They merely continued to point their shaking barrels toward the unshaken Imperial. When the Republic trooper attempted to issue a second order, he found himself interrupted by the swift introduction of an armored gauntlet into his face.

The blow caused the soldier to tumble to the ground, his helmet knocked loose and his rifle flung from his hands. The accompanying defender could do nothing but continue staring down his weapon's sights, unwilling to rend his gaze from the indomitable Imperial, yet unable to pull the trigger.

Featureless visage met featureless visage as invader and defender matched gazes. As the white-clad trooper remained frozen, his black counterpart made the first move. Aurek slowly raised a hand, leaving the carbine where it lay on the floor. Carefully, he wrapped his armored digits around the rifle's barrel, and slowly lowered the Republic weapon until it was even with his chest.

"Take it from someone who's attended his own funeral, you're of no use to your Republic dead," Aurek stated. The tranquil words sprang from the invader's helmet before they promptly gripped the Republic soldier's ears and refused to let go. The defender croaked an inaudible reply, but it went unheeded by the dark soldier. "Let go. Of your blaster. Of your feelings. Of your feeble notions of obligation. And let me and my squad pass."

The chilling words cut deep into the wavering trooper, loosening his grip, and eventually, causing him to slump to his knees.

Aurek carefully retrieved his carbine from the floor and waved for his comrades to follow. As the other began to emerge from the smoky mess hall, the lead Imperial offered one final glance to the lone defender. "Tend to your wounded."

With that, Aurek made his way down the hall, the rest of his team following his lead. The Republic soldier could only watch as the five troopers passed by him without a second glance. As the black sentinels disappeared behind him, he was left upon his knees, arms heavy at his side, head utterly dipped.


	11. 1-10 'The Alert'

**Chapter Ten: The Alert**

Compressed inside the rounded, cylindrical chamber, the Imperials stood amidst the subtle hum and rumbling beneath their feet. Finally, the vibrations ceased, and the doors before them parted, granting sight into the empty corridors beyond.

Carefully, the soldiers stepped from the lift. Aurek led the way, and his comrades followed soon after, continually scanning the way ahead. With each step, the invaders neared a hallway perpendicular to their current one, the familiar spine that connected with the cruiser's hangar.

Aurek waved his team forward, and the group moved with a methodical haste in their step. The clamoring of heavy boots echoed throughout the empty halls as they rounded the corner. On the straight path back toward the hangar, the Imperials received a startling surprise. Not an unknown presence, but a sudden absence.

The cruiser went dark. The lights lining the way forward and back shut off. The soldiers froze, black amongst blackness, until the faint, beating glow of ship's emergency lights kicked in. Spinning on their heels, placing their backs to one another's, the Imperials gazed down each direction of the corridor, raising carbines, pistols, and fists.

Just as they were about to engage their helms' nightvision, the cruiser suffered a violent shake, almost tossing the armored figures to the ground. Stumbling and bouncing against one another, the Imperials managed to stay upright just long enough for the vessel to calm.

Breaking the silence was Esk's voice calling out over the team comm. "Before y'all even ask. That wasn't me."

"Dorn?" Aurek calmly asked.

There was a brief pause before the technician spoke. "Well, uh, I'm not entirely sure, but-"

"Alert," a mechanical voice sounded off over the ship's speaker system. "Primary reactor compromised. Explosion eminent. Evacuation advised."

"-but the ship might be self-destructing," Dorn finished.

"This ship is trying to kill us," Besh muttered, now standing without support, but groggily drifting from side to side.

"This certainly complicates things," Aurek stated, maintaining his calm. "Listen. Dorn, Esk, if we take too long getting back to the hangar, I want you two to leave without us. We will just commandeer the Republic shuttle and leave that way."

"Uh, Aurek? What Republic Shuttle?" Cresh hesitantly asked.

"The one that picked me up planetside and brought me here," Aurek answered. "The one that should still be in the hangar." There was only silence as the accompanying four troopers slowly shook their head, to which the squad leader dipped his own. "It's not in the hangar is it?"

"I'm afraid not," Cresh softly answered. "Since you broke out before we got here… it could have left for reinforcements. Or maybe it just-"

"Is the ship self-destructing… or not?" Forn spoke up, his voice low and smooth, yet harsh to the senses. "Because standing around talking… leads me to believe that you don't think so."

"Fair point," said Aurek. "Dorn, how long until this place is done for?"

"Doesn't say," Dorn replied almost immediately.

"How rude of it…" Besh muttered.

"What about escape pods?" Cresh asked.

"Launching as we speak," Dorn replied. "They're practically adjacent to the bridge. Easy access for high priority personnel. You guys are better off making your way back to the hangar."

"Then let us do that," Forn insisted. "Now."

Aurek offered a firm nod and waved the squad forward without further delay. The troopers broke into a full sprint down the darkened corridor. Making their way down the spine of the ship under the flickering yellow of the ship's emergency lights, the invaders neared their first door. Unlike their previous trek, the sturdy slabs of metal refused to part in response to their approach.

The five Imperials came to a grinding halt, waiting for the barrier to open. It refused.

"How intent are they on killing us today?" said Aurek, his usual calm on the precipice of faltering.

"The ship is angry…" Besh muttered.

"Dorn, I pray that you still aren't locked out of the system," Aurek raised his voice over the comm.

"I'm afraid I am," Dorn replied. After a quiet pause, the squad leader slammed his clenched, armored fist into the solid barrier before him, neither receiving even a scratch in return. The five invaders were stuck, but soon, the technician broke the silence. "Don't worry. I am not a slicer without a few tricks. I have a security spike that can overload the entire system."

"And why couldn't you have just used that before?" Cresh asked, his youthful voice almost cracking as he blurted out the words.

The technician went quiet. No more words, only the subtle noises of metal touching metal on the other end of the comm. As the trooper waited, the ship's speakers sounded off another declaration, same as before. Reactor overload. Explosion imminent. Evacuation advised.

Just as Aurek was about to speak up, the door blocking the squad parted, metallic slabs sliding into their sideward recesses. The next door further down did the same, as did the next. Eventually, Aurek could see Esk standing far in the distance, heartily waving his hand toward the squad through the dim lighting.

Aurek offered a quick wave back and took his first step forward. Before he could proceed further, the door slammed shut, almost crushing the squad leader as its two metal slabs met.

"Okay... question redacted," said Cresh.

"The ship is trying to eat us…" Besh muttered.

Forn quickly panned his gaze toward the medic. "What was in that medicine you gave him?"

Cresh replied with a brief shrug of his shoulders.

Just then, the door began to part, only for it to stop half-way before slamming shut again. The sturdy slabs of metal slid and grinded as they sporadically rescinded and closed throughout the central corridor.

Aurek turned around, panning his gaze toward each of his faceless comrades one by one. "Alright, squad. There's no pattern here. We'll just have to try our best to get back to the hangar. It'll take a bit of lucky, but we're nothing if not…"

The squad leader trailed off as the sounds of the metal pounding metal emanated from just behind him.

"Never mind that," Aurek continued. "Just… get to the shuttle."

With that, the squad leader turned back to see the doors parting. Just as the gap was suitably widened, the Imperial leapt through.

The rest of the squad followed, with only one or two soldiers per stretch of hallways between the rapidly opening and shutting doors. A jump, and a pause. No looking back. No hesitation. They each moved with speed unbefitting their armored hides. Even Besh, though his gait was noticeably less refined than those unburdened by wounds or medicine pumping through their veins.

Towards the midpoint of their venture, Aurek jumped through a closing door, only for the barrel of his trailing carbine to get caught between the two slabs of metal. The weapon crunched, and eventually split under the crushing weight of the barrier. The squad leader paused, staring at the mangled end of his weapon before tossing it aside.

Watching their comrades move closer and closer, Esk stepped away from the hangar door to lay a hand upon the technician's shoulder. Dorn looked up for but a moment before disconnecting from the wall panel and rising to his feet. Together, the pair rushed down nearby set of stairs and toward their shuttle.

As the technician hurried up the transport's ramp, the demolitionist picked up the small crate that rest near its base and carried it aboard. Esk tossed the box into the cargo hold, the metallic container bouncing upon the floor with nary a clank emanating from its innards. Dorn rounded the hole in the passenger bay made by the lowered entry ramp, almost tripping as he made his way into the ship's cockpit.

Two seats, side by side, presented themselves to the technician, as well as the dark and unpowered console stretching before them. Not even bothering to take a seat, Dorn's hands glided across the various switches and dials, gracing each individual one with its due attention. The once silent and dark shuttle began to hum to life.

As the instruments fired up, Dorn looked out the sideward viewport to see his comrades enter the hangar, passing the final gnashing door of the haywire cruiser. A sigh of relief slipped out of the technician, only for a sharp ping to draw his attention back toward the shuttle's console.

Dorn froze as he stared at the flashing indicator. "Uh, Aurek? I think that shuttle you mentioned is on its way back."

On the hangar floor, the squad leader panned his gaze across the dimly lit hangar as his fellows caught up with him. "Let's go, we don't want to be here when reinforcements arrive."

Aurek moved forward, pausing to the side of the shuttle's ramp. With wide swings of his hand, he waved his comrades aboard, not budging until he would be the last to board. The soldiers ascended, taking their positions in the passenger bay. As Grek unfastened the footlocker upon his back and slid it under his seat, Aurek rushed by, stepping into the shuttle's cockpit.

"We're all aboard," Aurek declared. "Launch!"

"Aye," Dorn quickly replied. Sliding into one of the chairs before the ship's primary console, the technician took manual control of the vessel. The squad leader stood over the pilot's shoulder as the hum of the engines turned into a roar. The transport shivered, and soon, lifted itself from the hangar floor.

Urging the vessel forward, Dorn toppled the stacked perimeter of crates below. Gaining speed, the shuttle fast approached the hangar's magnetic barrier, until finally, it passed through into the vacuum of space.

"I'll need time to calculate a hyperspace route," Dorn admitted.

"Later. Sublight engines will suffice. Just. Keep. Flying," Aurek ordered, hand clenching around the back of the pilot's chair.

"You got it," replied Dorn.

With a flick of a switch, the shuttle rumbled before violently accelerating. Stumbling, the squad leader backed out of the cockpit. Catching his hand on the doorframe, the Imperial swung himself to the side to take a seat upon one of the benches lining the passenger bay.

Looking up, he saw the faceless visors of his teammates staring directly from him.

Finally, a hearty chuckle emanated from the demolitionist. "So. Aurek. Welcome back…"


	12. 1-E 'The Aftermath'

**Epilogue: The Aftermath**

The hangar floor lay static, a still frame of the events that had previously transpired. The scene was only disturbed by the continuous flashing of emergency lights, and the introduction of a Republic shuttle passing through one of the hangar's magnetic barrier. Gently hovering over toppled crates and fallen soldiers, the white transport eventually settled upon its struts in a small clearing. The smooth, compact shuttle opened its mouth, descending its forward entry ramp.

A squad of seven Republic troopers exited the craft, guns raised and scanning the room. Through the dim lighting, the cold, motionless bodies of their fellows presented themselves in whatever direction the soldiers looked. They basked in the silence, armor turning yellow with each flicker of the vessel's emergency lights. Finally, the silence was broken by the mechanical voice sounding off over the cruiser's's speakers.

"Sergeant, that's the self-destruct alert!" shouted the squad's engineer.

The front-running trooper quickly snapped his attention to his team. "Damn it, I'm not to give up on the Runner. I made a pledge to the Republic, and I'm not going to see a vessel and its crew needlessly thrown away. Now… anyone thinking of evacuating can do so. Meanwhile, I believe we have a ship to save."

"Yes sir, Sergeant Kier!" the squad responded in unison.

"Good. There should be a maintenance hatch under the aft platform. We can follow that to the emergency override near the reactor. Let's move out!"

The Republic squad marched forward at a sprinting pace. Squeezing behind the stacks of crates occupying the hangar's rear, the troopers formed a single-file line as they searched for the illusive hatch. Eventually, the lead soldier came to a panel built into the lower wall, noticeable only by the thin lines that marked its borders and two inset pockets to grip it with. Clenching his hands around hatch's handles, the Republic commander tugged it free before tossing it aside, revealing the dark passageway beyond.

The first step into corridor of exposed wiring and framework proved awkward as the soldier stepped on uneven ground. Rescinding his foot, the trooper saw an irregular disk where he had stepped. A moment later, it began blinking with an angry red light.

* * *

Aboard the retreating Imperial shuttle, the squad within the passenger bay was utterly quiet, patiently awaiting the eventual detonation of the self-destructing cruiser.

The demolitionist perked up as a quick chirp rang out in his helm. In the corner of his HUD, a blinking light ceased as the soldier stopped receiving a particular signal. Loftily crossing his arms, leaning back in his seat, Esk released a soft chuckle.

"What is it this time, Esk?" asked Forn.

"It's nothing'," the demolitionist giddily replied.

"Whatever," Forn muttered.

There were a few moments of silence before a shockwave washed over the shuttle, thrashing its occupants about. Bouncing around their seats, the armored figures eventually settled as the shuttle did the same.

"And it looks like that's it for the Freedom's Runner," Dorn called out from the cockpit, voice carried into each of the soldiers' ears by the helms' internal speakers.

"So wait… does that technically count as leaving evidence?" Cresh asked, bordering on a chuckle.

"Well, it was a self-destruction," Aurek admitted. "So, if it works toward the Project's goals, we triggered it. If it works against us, they triggered it. That, or we blame it on Esk."

"Hah, I'd almost feel like taking credit for the detonation regardless," Esk bellowed alongside a hearty chortle. The others offered gentle laughs of their own, all but the silent giant and the wounded marksman.

Besh was hunched over in his seat, frozen except to occasionally prod at his wound. The spray that had covered his wound was all but translucent, revealing the splotch of blackened flesh beneath. The marksman would lightly touch the spot, only to immediately wince.

"First aid wearing off, Besh?" Aurek asked. He answered with a simple nod, before Grek softly patted the marksman's knee. "Once we're back home, we'll send word to prep the med bay for you. Fortunately, it doesn't seem too bad an injury. Plus everyone else seems to be alright. I'd hate to have had something happen to Cresh after what I said in the interrogation…"

The medic immediately perked up. "Wait, what? What did you say?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just that, statistically speaking, Cresh has the lowest track record for… well, survival," Aurek hesitantly said.

"Maybe… maybe don't say things like that on my first mission," Cresh muttered.

"Hey, you survived didn't'cha?" Esk all but shouted, prodding the medic's side with his elbow.

"That he did," said Aurek, a warmth in his voice. "But remember, this technically wasn't your first mission. You're Cresh. Cresh has been with us since the beginning. Therefore, you've been with us since the beginning. That's how the Seven work."

"Yeah, but… it's just us here, right?" the medic asked. "Do we really have to keep up the facade, even when we're alone?"

"We're never alone," Aurek declared. "When you're with the Seven, you're _with_ the Seven. But regardless, rules _are_ rules. And believe me, they're for your own good."

"Besides…" Forn spoke up. "This entire mission… was because someone said something they shouldn't have."

"And for that, I apologize," Aurek said with a gentle dip of his head. "But I was just voicing concerns we all had. I know our _thing_ is manipulating the results of easy missions, but after we lost-"

The squad leader cut himself, letting a heavy silence domination the shuttle before continuing.

"After Shatter-Rock," Aurek continued, "it just seemed like we were doing nothing. And an ineffectual Imperial is no Imperial. We're supposed to be an inspiration. We're supposed to get things done, whether it be by us or the Director. We do what we do for the good of the Empire, for the good of countless soldiers. We act, so that hundred, thousands of others don't have to."

"I do suppose it's not every day seven soldiers manage to board and detonate a Republic cruiser," Esk offered, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Especially in peacetime."

"Well, we _have_ done it twice before," Forn added.

"Yeah, but this was the first one to have any meaningful opposition aboard," the demolitionist replied.

"Is that a good thing or bad thing?" asked Forn.

Esk released a quick chuckle. "Seems like the kind of thing I should be asking you."

Forn crossed his arms, compacting his figure. "I enjoy mindless killing as much as you enjoy mindless explosions."

"That much, huh?" Dorn spoke up from the cockpit.

"Hey!" Esk barked. "Nothing about me an' my work is 'mindless'."

"And yet, things always seem to be spontaneously combusting around you," Dorn replied. Soon, the technician casually strolled out of the cockpit, tapping at the datapad built into his bracer. "Furthermore, we always get lumped together when its time to assign the blame. Hopefully the Direction won't be too displeased with the destruction of the cruiser."

"She shouldn't be," Aurek offered. "None of our actions conflicted with the Treaty of Coruscant. The Empire was retrieving a captured prisoner. The Republic was defending itself against armed aggressors. Simple as that. With no out-of-system reinforcements, each side can sufficiently say they were within their rights. Each side equally at fault for any investigated grievances. No territory lost or gained. Just one of the many quarrels that pop up and go unnoticed by the galaxy at large. Only difference is information regarding this operation will be spread to just the right people."

"I guess we'll know for sure when we're back home," Dorn muttered. "On that note, our route's been calculated. Shall I make the jump to hyperspace?"

"Go right ahead."

* * *

**End of Episode I**


End file.
